We Were Just an Idea
by PervertFarmer
Summary: Lines were always crossed, crimes always committed and yet that was bearable. So how come this wasn't? How could neither Will nor Hannibal bear such a thing? Such an idea that burned at their bones and opened up the rib cages to a truth neither of them could speak?


"Will," He couldn't bare this sound. The calm and collected brutality of his voice was a torture all in itself. Maybe if he kept his eyes closed, maybe if he just pretended to be unconscious for just a little bit longer, his body would somehow learn to bear the inevitable hurt that would strike his every bone and leave a scar in the recess of his mind.

"Will," _Don't do this to me_ , he thought, eyes burning with a curiosity to gaze upon that familiar face, see the hard edge of his jaw line, the sharp corners of his cheek bones. He wanted to look into those cold and lifeless eyes and be reminded that this was not his doing. That none of this was really his fault.

"Wake up, Will," But as he opened his eyes, eyelids fluttering open to reveal his cruel reality, Will couldn't find the assurance he needed in the cool grey eyes of the man before him.

"H-Hannibal..." He uttered, unsure what to make of himself as the sadistic man before him cupped his cheek, this look of concern on his face, but Will couldn't absorb it, couldn't shake off the feeling this was all just an act. A way for Hannibal to play with his mind.

"It's a shame it has come to this... Isn't Will?" Hannibal whispered, the dark room that confined them, quickly abosrbing every word, seeming to echo it and throw it from wall to wall until it found it's way to Will's ears. He tried to move, tried o get up, but he couldn't, his wrists burning as he struggled against the rope that bounded them. "Don't stuggle," Hannibal sighed, watching as the man tried to get out of the chair only to realize he couldn't.

"W-what are you doing...?" Will managed out, a shiver running throughout his every limb as a freezing, bitter, cold settled over him. Why was he so cold? What was this paralyzing grip that seemed to have a hold over him.

"It's okay, you're safe," Hannibal assure, his thumb smoothing over the stubble on his jawline, the edge of his nail scraping gently across his bottom lip. Will didn't feel safe, how could he in the presence of this twisted man.

"Stop..." It was all Will could manage out as Hannibal leaned in closer, their lips just barely touching, the hot air of their breathing mixing together, a warmth teasing at Will's lips. Not again, he couldn't let this happen again. "Get away," He breathed, a puff of warm air ghosting over Hannibal's face, the older man simply smiling softly at Will, but there was nothing heart warming about the way his lips spread and tugged upward, a chill running through the tied up man.

"Will," Hannibal whispered, his voice full of this playful yet stern tone that made something stir deep within Will. _Don't say my name_. _Not like that_. Will jerked away slightly as Hannibal brought his other hand up, his fingers curling and gripping at the back of his head, forcing Will to look at him as he spoke.

"It's too late for that," Hannibal muttered and it only angered Will even more. How could he be so fucking calm. How is it that at every given moment, this man- this ruthless, heartless man has seen him at his worst, yet no matter the situation, no matter how heart wrenching the moment, Hannibal was always calm, always uncaring. It made Will hate the man even more. "No more games," Hannibal muttered softly, closing the distance between them, Will struggling against his restraints as he felt the soft heat of Hannibal's lips as they pushed and moved against his own, a torture like this- it was unbearable.

After a moment he finally pulled away, his eyes studying Will's face, searching and searching, but not ever finding the answer he wanted to find in those familiar dark green eyes, but all he saw was that gaurded expression, that frown that tugged and pulled itself into exsistence whenever in Hannibal's presence. Such a heated expression, yet Hannibal found himself taking comfort in it, happy to see there was a fight in Will after all this time.

He would destroy him. This is the conclusion Will had finally came to as this unbearable moment between them became even more unbearable. Manipulation, this was what he was doing, trying to manipulate Will, trying to lure him into some sort of false idea that maybe, maybe there was a chance, maybe all hope wasn't lost. But Will refused to be a ploy in whatever game Hannibal was playing. He refused to be resorted to the same fate as Abig-. He couldn't say it, couldn't say her name, the pain that would follow it something that Will was sure would kill him.

"What do you _want_ , Hannibal," Will groaned, hands twisting, trying desperately to free himself, but the ropes only seemed to get tighter. He could take it anymore, he couldn't sit here any more, couldn't take the look Hannibal gave him as if trying to dissect Will's mind to see what was inside that skull of his. He hated the way Hannibal's eyes wandered and searched, seeming to analyze his very bieng.

"It's not what want so much as what I need, Will," He sighed, his fingers finding their way to the brunnette's hair, gripping and becoming entangled in the messy locks he found there, Will's chest becoming impossibly tighter.

"No," He breathed, slowly shaking his head, Hannibal seeing the understanding in his eyes. He finally got it, finally understood why he was here, in this cold, dark room with Hannibal. This man would devour him, sink his teeth into his flesh and lick at the grooves on his bones. This is where he was going to die, because Hannibal would give him no choice but to stay. Walking out that door? The thought of doing that was suicide. He was trapped... but so was Hannibal.

"No," He muttered again, his voice cracking, small and cold as Hannibal leaned in, their lips connecting once more and for a moment, Will hates it, despises the warmth that melts into his skin, not understanding how such a heat could come from someone so cold and so cruel. "Wait.." He breathes out, but Hannibal doesn't care, his hand gripping at his chin, tugging at the hair at the back of Will's head, forcing his tongue into his mouth. The warmth that pooled in the bottom of his stomach and poured into his veins sent a shudder down his spine as he felt the smoothness of Hannibal's tongue against his own, a moan coaxing it's way through his mouth right into the suffocating kiss.

It was an unbearable, cruel pleasure that held no substance, no meaning, yet all at the same time, it was the very thing they held onto, the only thing could, neither one of them wanting to pull away. Hannibal ran his tongue across Will's bottom lip, biting at the soft skin there until it turned red, their labored breathing dancing and becoming one as he slowly pulled away. It was the cruelest jokes of them all, the most unbearable torture Will has ever had to endure as he slowly opened his eyes, expecting Hannibal to smiling at him with a sense of victory, a sense of control over him that he may very well have, but he didn't expect to see the way Hannibal smiled at him with this helpless look in his eyes. His smile was unsteady and forced, his eyes lit with a sense of defeat and grief. He was broken. For the first time, Will saw a new side to Hannibal. A vulnerable and broken side that Will always thought he would enjoy seeing, but it only seemed to scare him.

"This desire..." Hannibal muttered, the smell of smoke starting to fill the air as a heat started to radiate from the floorboards. There was a fire just beyond that door that seemed to close off the world. A fire that licked at the bottom of the door and slowly touched the knob, begging for entry as the unfamiliar sight of a tear took it's place on Hannibals cheek, but Will convinced himself it was just sweat. In that moment he convinced himself of a lot of things. That this was the only way. That when they were found, when their bodies were burned beyond recognition and the smell of what they once were was replaced with the stench of a life burned out of exsistence, their bones the only thing left to prove they were ever here. When they found a conflicting sense of peace within eachother, someone would see this and wouldn't help but find something artistic in the way their pain had struggled at the very end and they would think 'how beautiful'.

"This desire..." Hannibal muttered again as if the words were stuck in his throat, unwilling to come out, but Will listened this time, the sound of Hannibal's voice a pain that somehow brought him comfort as the fire finally broke through, the flames dancing across the floorboards and up he walls, slowly surrounding them. "It was just an idea..." Hannibal finished, slowly undoing Will's restraints, his wrists crying out in relief as the rope fell to the floor, the heat that danced and filled the air slowly becoming unbearable. He could've ran, Will could've tried to escape, let the instinct to live take over him and flee, but he didn't-couldn't.

"We were just an idea..." Will muttered softly, his fingers coming up to caress Hannibal's cheek and for a moment it was forgotten. The persistent abuse and torture they had for so long put eachother through. It was the unpleasent times they were looking at at, but the ones that made their chest feel with a shared warmth as they leaned into eachother, their bodies flush with a desperation, lips parted and moving together in sync with a purpose to reach that comfort they had always yearned. As their tongues met for the last time, their bodies figuring one another out, Will felt foolish, Maybe he should've ran, because Hannibal was only manipulating him. Tricking him into experiencing hell together. Will was convinced he was only here to assist a man along an otherwise lonely journey, but again, he pretended. He preended that Hannibal truly needed him like he needed Hannibal.

As they kissed, unsure if the heat they felt was between them or perhaps the fire that drew inevitabely closer, they both held eachother with a strenght found within their own reasons for staying. Love had nothing to do with this fate. But it had everything to do with the pain that stuck to the walls and burned at the edges of their ribs. It had nothing to do with why the were both trapped in this room at their own expense. It was just an idea they once said aloud and even now as the flames broke down their resolve, love was a langauge they still couldn't bear to speak.


End file.
